Which, is why to have one loyal reader, and one other endorsement from my family, in one day, is so special. They are showing they are willing to begin to see me as more than just the comfortable, or even outspoken, family member they know on an everyday basis. To get to know me better as a person in my own right. It's one of the things that happens as you age. You become these roles, rather than yourself. A sibling, a spouse, a parent, even a grandparent, and it can become only a stereotype. Not something anyone wants to be, do they? At least, I certainly don't. I want to be me, it took me long enough to discover who that was!
Never the less, I am immensely grateful for the compliments, from both of my faithful relatives. Keep reading you two, and gradually, who knows, you may get to know the real me, instead of the family side, or figure, you already know. Perhaps these sides are the same. I don't think they are, but what do I know. I am only like everyone else, I just do the best I can, one step at a time. Often, we don't know how well we've done, or how bad, until much later. When we can see it in retrospect. We can all be smart like that, at that time.
This need to write, has been there a long time. Before I could write, I made up stories for my smaller brother. It was a task, as older sister, my Mother thought was my job. "Tell him a story until he goes to sleep" she would say, every night, once we were in bed. I liked it in the beginning, even though I was only seventeen months older than he. After a while, I began to resent it, every night. Horrid child that I must have been, so, I told him scary stories. He said years later, "you used to scare the bejesus out of me." Poor little soul, it wasn't his fault was it. But, was it mine...I leave it to you to decide.
Being dyslexic, it took me a long time to get around to writing anything. This need for self expression, goes back even longer, I would say. As I paint, and being an art teacher for many years, now, without the space to paint. Especially using the grand sizes of canvas, or freedom of movement I prefer. No room for the freedoms I used to express my responses to what I saw. I now write more, expressing my responders in words, rather than pictures. It seems a good idea, a good alternative, for now. Now, actually it's more than that. A writer is only a figure, full with words, and ideas. Fueled by the need to express what they feel, or think. Be they opinions, fantasy, or witterings. I am quite good at witterings. It's also why I am so happy when someone says 'well done,' or ' it was good',or even, 'I read it.' It validates me perhaps.
I have already wriitten the best part of four books. Already begun editing, all to a standard where I will be happy to publish. While away from home recently, I thought, have a break, go back to a blog I had set up a couple of years ago. Hoping it might refresh my being so jaded, by all that endless editing.
Yes, it did work, I enjoy it immensely. With the result, I have still to return to editing. In the meantime, I go public with my blogs daily, and now, want to increase my audience, my followers.
So, you guys reading this, please share, and follow. Because, if you don't, I am writing for myself, and whatever family members are kind enough to read me.
Regardless, I shall continue writing...
As I hope you will continue reading..
I THANK YOU
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